The Shadows Friend
by Acky002
Summary: Its 1498, a year of prosperity for Italy. Or so it seems. For Stephino De Corta he is celebrating his 21st birthday, supposedly a day of joy and happiness. However his expectations are greatly misguided. With his family torn apart and his siblings kidnapped, Stephino must venture into his fathers dark and deadly past, in order to take back what was his, and avenge his family.
1. In the beginning

Assassin's Creed

The Shadow's Friend

Prelog

It's time the world knew the truth. time the people knew what was out there. and what was there to protect them. People they thought were dead, are alive. Friends and foes alike. my name is Stephino DeCorta i am an Assassin and this, is my story.

Chapter one

Today is my 16th birthday. It should mark the move from child to adult. It should house the Happiness of such a prestigious occasion. From here, life changes. I may carry a blade, and marry if I choose. But for me. Today is the day my family fell apart.

It all started at my father's villa in Trieste. As usual I was up, as winters light broke the icy bonds of night and scattered rays of golden yellow crimson read and sapphire blue across the cloudless canvas of the sky. I walked out onto the Balcony. Resting my hands on the railing, leaning forward, yawning in the process. My hair was all over the place as I thought of the day ahead. It was my birthday, that was certain, but what lay ahead of me I had no idea. My thoughts drifted out to sea as I walked back into the house. My father was waiting for me.

"Ciao Stephino," he called, "I see your sister and brother are not yet up,"

"Morning papa," I said, "no Lucio still sleeps and Sofia is taking an age to get ready,"

"No change there then," my father chuckled, "come I have something to show you," I smiled and fell into step by his side, "how are you feeling today?" he asked and I nodded replying that I was fine. My father was Guiseppe DeCorta, a rich business man who owned a major shipping fleet here in Trieste. He led me though the caught yard, and into his study. I stood obediently in front of the old oak desk, like a school boy in the head master's office.

"As you know," he said, smiling, "today you cease to be a boy. And begin your journey as a man." He opened a draw and took from it a rectangular parcel and a long oblong box. For my part I could hardly contain the smile which was gaging to escape my pursed lips. My Father stretched out his hand, passing me the parcel.

"This is from your mother," he said, "she hopes that you will wear it with pride," I opened the parcel and pulled out the contents. A red cloak fell around my feet. I studied it. It was light, yet durable, with our family crest sewn in the centre. My father stood up and nodded at the parcel. "It is not yet empty," he gestured to the paper packaging that lay on the desk. Carefully I folded the cloak up, placing it on the desk before taking out the white material inside the parcel. I held it up, it was a white sleeveless jacket, with a hood and crimson red lining. I pulled it on over the white shirt and waist coat I wore and shuffled about. It fitted snugly and offered a full range of movement. It was warm and cosy yet still managed to be light and airy. My father walked around the desk to fasten on the cloak.

"You look, devilishly handsome," he said, shoving my shoulder gently, "how does it feel?"

"Fantastico papa," I said, almost speechless, "I don't know what to say," he laughed and beamed,

"Good," mused my father. He reached for the oblong box and passed it to me. "Here," he said. But as I went to take the box he moved it out of reach, "before you take it, know this. A true man is not quick to anger, or aggression." He passed me the box. I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine. "If you ever have to use this Stephino, don't muck about. Finish the fight before it gets stupid,"

"I promise father," I said, and opened the box. What I saw inside took away my breath. The gleaming blade of the sword shone up in my face, as I ran my hand down to the satin laced handle. The hand-guard fitted neatly against my hand and as I took the blade from the box it felt as if it was but a feather. Laying the blade on the table I secured the sheath around my waist, then slipped the sword inside. I looked across at my father and smiled. His face was straight but I could tell by the look in his eyes he was holding something back.

"What is wrong papa?" I enquired,

"Nothing, my son ," he said before beaming at me and placing both hands securely on my shoulders.

"Know this," he said, "I may not have been a good man in past years, but I am proud to call you my son." These words still haunt me, even though events that were to come have been and gone.

"Grazie papa," I said, we embraced before I left in search of my mother.

Five minutes later my mother called me. When I arrived I found her in her normal dress, her brunette hair pinned back behind so it fell down her back. She smiled as I approached.

"Ah Stephino," she beamed, "I have a job for you, if you'd be so kind," I chuckled,

"Yes mother what is it you need?"

"I have a message waiting down at the cope, it is in regard to the books I have ordered, and would you mind fetching it?"

I smiled, "of course mother," I turned on my heel and left the sanctity of our villa.

By now the sun was just daring to peak over the roves of the Trieste buildings. The Cope was on the other side of town and was a twenty minute walk along the roads. However I had no intention of going by road. Using the wall as a bounce board I scaled the side of a sturdy looking building. The ledges were moist from due the night before and at times I felt a bit dubious, but eventually the golden lit rooftops were within reach. I sprinted along the roof tops, jumping gaps and sidling along the beams between streets. This was the way to travel, to go where few people dare venture, to glimpse views that a select few get to see. To run the roves is to taste adrenalin, to seek out adventure and to defy the laws or normality. It sets you free and that is why I continue to peruse it.

The city was just waking as I flitted across the roof tops. My heart raced as I leapt the gap between roves. I skipped over scaffolding and vaulted walls. I climbed buildings and ran over the beams as agile as a cat. In the distance I could see the mountains and the sun fell at my back, warming my body, driving me on wards. As I ran I thought. I was now 16. I had a sword, and the skills to move onward. The world was my ouster. My mind was a mixture of anticipation at putting my skills to the test. But dread at drawing my first blood. Slowly the cooing of multiple pigeons, and the smell of their excrement, crept up on me like a ghost, becoming almost intolerable.

Trying not to gag, I pulled out the pigeon with our note and slipped the rolled paper from its holder. Tucking it into the fold of my new jacket, I made my way into the shadows and down onto the streets. I ducked and weaved in-between the people, who were now filling the streets. I passed without much notice, except for a few well wishes from merchants whom knew father.

As I passed the blacksmith, he called out to me.

"Stephino, come, I've something for you."

Carlos Freago had been firm friends with my father for as long as I could remember. He had made me numerous toys from what seemed like scrap but, as I got older, the toys leant themselves more and more to becoming tools.

For my twelfth birthday, I can remember him handing me a bow and matching set of arrows. He had guided me in how to use them and so, almost 9 years later, I can shoot almost as good as I can handle a sword. He smiled at me as I approached

"Happy birthday my boy!" He cried as we shook hands, "how are you?"

"Good thank-you," I smiled, "how fares you and your Madonna?"

"We are good my friend," he smiled, "business has been decent and so life fairs well," he beckoned me into the shop, leading me out to his workshop.

"And what of Isabelle? How is she?" I asked, and received a cheeky glance from Carlos.

"She is good seignior" he said, mischievously, "Why do you ask? I must say, u do dress like a man off to charm a lady,"

I laughed.

"It was just as a gesture of interest," I smiled, but Carlos new all too well I got on well with the women, and could get I decent kiss off of most I talked to. The fact Isabelle was by far the most beautiful in Trieste, only worsened suspicions. So, in fairness, he had good cause to question my interest. However today was not one of those days,

"No Carlos, this is a new clothing given by my mother." I smiled, "no women to charm today'"

We both laughed as the old black smith came to a halt beside an array of knives and pointy stars.

"Take your pick," the old man said, waving a hand across the tray, "they are made to the highest quality I can assure you,"

I chuckled "any blade crafted at your hand is of excellent quality sir, of that I am certain." It was a poor excuse of flattery but' made the blacksmith beam in pride all the same.

I looked down at the array of knives. I was shocked by the variation in styles, but my eyes were slowly drawn to a set of vicious looking stars with a small smooth hole in the centre. I picked one up and spun it gently in my palm. The old blacksmith caught my interest and picked one up himself.

"These seignior," he said, "are Shuriken. They are used by the people in the east as throwing instruments," to demonstrate he flicked one at the opposite wall. The tiny disc flew three the air like a bolt of lightning, embedding itself in the wall on the other side of the hall. "I got the plans from one of your father's sailors who'd been that way. Quite effective if I may say so."

"I'll take your word for it," I said. But internally I was itching to try them out. "May I?" I asked indicating to the desk. Carlos nodded and, copying his action, I flicked the star across the room. It curved wildly, before bouncing off the wall and clattering to the floor near a water jug.

"I think," chuckled the old man, "I may have to teach you to use them," he smiled before passing me a leather pouch with ten of the blackened stars packed into it.

"Strap it mid-thigh, on your throwing side," he laughed before adding "I suggest I give you a few lessons before you use them to impress more of your women," I smiled.

"Grazie Carlos," I said, embracing him, "for everything."

"Watching you grow into a man has been thanks enough seignior Corte," we shared another warm handshake as Isabelle walked in,

"Father have you seen-" she stopped mid-sentence when she saw me. Her dazzling hazel eyes widened in shock as she stood stock still.

" Buongiorno signora," I said with a bow, and a smile,

"Yes my dear?" Asked Carlos, but Isabelle blanked him and scuttled out of view.

"Something I said?" I asked jokingly,

"With her," Isabelle's father said, "anything is possible," we laughed. Before I strapped on my gift, and left for home.

I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw the front door. The lock had been busted in and the wood was splintered about the edges. I entered with caution, hand resting on the handle of my sword. The yard was deathly quiet. Not music. Not voices. Only silence. All of my senses were on high alert now, something bad had happened. I could feel it.

It was then that I saw Paulo. He was my father's man servant. So full of life before I left, he now lay in a growing pool of his own crimson blood.

I gaged. It is funny to think the sight of death repulsed me then. But worry for my mother, father, and siblings now overwhelmed me. Drawing my sword, I called out

"Father! Mother! Sophia! Antonio! Where are you?"

"There is nobody hear child," snapped a wheezy voice behind me. I spun round and saw two imperial guards materialise from the shadows.

"We have orders to take you in alive," said the first

"Personally I prefer the dead option" wheezed the other.

They advanced simultaneously. My heart raced. Suddenly the first guard and I reacted instinctively, spinning inside the savage blow, drawing my blade across the man's chest. The man dropped like a stoat and his partner backed off a little. Still high on adrenalin I dodged the first and second attack made by the remaining guard before knocking him out with a blow to the nose.

The fight had taken less than two minutes but the images of their dead and unconscious bodies still haunts me. I ran to my father's study

"Father!" I cried. No answer. I bolted up stairs, my panic rising with my every step. Into my mother's chamber I burst, only to find her servant, Elizabeth, cowering in the corner, sobbing relentlessly.

Dropping my sword, I rushed over. She screamed, as I pulled her into a hug but I persisted

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth! It's me Stephino! It's me!"

After a few seconds she stopped struggling and sobbed into my shoulder. More minutes still passed before I could calm her to the extent of an explanation.

"You mother, your father, they have been taken. Arrested. Your brother and sister too." She sobbed again and I tried to get more from her

"By who Elizabeth? Tell me who!"

"The guards!" She cried," In the name of Thomas Francetti,"

"Where are they Elizabeth?" I hounded, my own worry rising faster,

"You mother and father were taken to the black tower. Your brother and sister… I don't know"

This was bad. The black tower was a tower made to house only the darkest of criminals. What was going on? A number of questions bombarded my skull.

"Is there some place u can go?" I asked Elizabeth softly. She nodded, "go there, you never worked here ok?" Again she nodded before fleeing the bedroom. Leaving me on my own with a bloodied sword and a multitude of thoughts


	2. The Truth

Chapter 2

My heart was pounding as I burst through the door of Carlos' Blacksmiths. He was waiting for me at the table and as soon as he saw me he jumped to his feet.

"Is it true?" he asked, but before I had a chance to answer his head dropped and his eyes grew dark as coal.

"Thomas Francetti has had them arrested, where he has taken them, I do not know," my face fell as the full impact of what had happened fell on me. I felt sick to my stomach, the worry bubbled and boiled inside of me and soon I was shaking with rage. Carlos put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye.

"Do not despair Stephino," he said, trying to be supporting, "I'm sure there is a-" he was cut off as a young urchin ran into the room,

"I've found them, the old ones. They're in the Torre di Nera," the young child exclaimed, "third story, west side,"

My hand went for my sword and in a flash it was at the boy's throat,

"If you speak false I swear," I whispered menacingly at the petrified child,

"Stephino!" snapped Carlos, "control yourself," he pushed the sword's blade from the boy's throat, "this is Pedro, one of my most trusted of informants," the boy smiled nervously, rubbing his throat, "if he says it is, then it is," I looked away, putting away my blade, I held out a hand,

"I apologise for my rashness Pedro," I said, quietly, "It was not my place to doubt you," the young boy shook my hand and smiled sheepishly,

"I never told a lie in me life signore," he said, I nodded face still sullen,

"so now we know where they are, next we have to talk to them," Carlos could always see further than the next step, "if Francetti had them arrested then he probably has the guard up to a maximum,"

"I'll go to father," I said, my gut doing summersaults in anticipation, "I'll cut down anyone who stands in my way,"

"No," said Carlos, "as I said the Torre di Nera is probably at maximum security, you'd be cut down in seconds, despite all of Guiseppe's teaching." He paused, "this will need a great deal of stealth, not to mention silence," I nodded, before turning on my heal and heading for the door,

"Good luck," Pedro called. I reached for the, handle but a soft hand caught my wrist.

"Are you sure about this?" Isabelle asked,

"If it was your family," I said, eyes down, "I know you'd do the same." She nodded in understanding, not looking me in the eye. I kissed her hand, promising to inform her upon my return. Her hand gripped mine as I slipped it from her grasp. Somehow I could tell she didn't want me to go. Leaving her in the door I disappeared into the ever growing darkness.

As soon as I left the house I took to the roof tops. I sprinted like the wind towards the largest tower in the city. This was the Torre di Nera. Home to Trieste's most deadly criminals and villains, the tower was the second most heavily guarded place other than the Palace. This was unlike anything I'd done before. To trespass here meant death. But I had to find my family. My feet carried me forward across the roves, over the gaps, along the beams. Soon the far off rise was now a gigantic wall of stone on top of me. To any normal person, the smooth bricked walls of the tower looked impenetrable. To me, however, it was a pathway. Gathering speed I lept for a cell window, my fingers wrapping around the cool bars. Slowly I climbed, like a spider on the wall. Up, up, up I went, flattening against the wall every time a patrol passed by, soon I was at my father's floor.

"Guiseppe," I called softly, "Giuseppe DeCorta, it's me, your son." Above me there was a shuffle and a hand appeared at the window,

"Stephino?" asked father,

"What is going on?" I asked, "Are you and mother ok?"

"I took a bit of a beating, but your mother is alright. Have you gone to Carlos?" he asked.

"Yes I… wait..." the penny dropped, "you knew this would happen?"

"Not at this cost and not like this," my father seemed genuinely traumatised, "but there is no time for that now," I was confused and hurt at the same time, my father had known about this but done nothing. I couldn't believe it

"What is the meaning of this? You must tell me,"

"There's no time," my father was almost beside himself, "Stephino you must listen, go to my study, in the desk is a small leaver. Pull it. This opens a compartment. Beyond the compartment is a box, open it. Take everything inside to Carlos, tell him that this is my legacy. Do you understand?" I nodded, "good, Inside the box is also a set of documents. These are the names of all those responsible. But at the moment it will all seem foreign, but all of this is important,"

"But father,"

"No Stephino, this is important, you must do everything I have said to you." There was a clang and the sound of feet,

"Quick go, before you're caught,"

"I swear I will find who has done this," with that I let go of the bars.

After climbing out of the hay I set off at run towards the villa. It was past midnight and the only people on the streets were ghosts. As I weaved in and out of the tight streets and vaulted over boxes, the searing worry that all was lost for my mother and father was almost over whelming. To be put in the Torre di Nera meant an imminent death sentence. At the time I had no idea of my father's past but as I came to my street, I remembered all the comings and goings from my father's visitors. Some of whom had been armed to the teeth. Pushing oven the door to the villa, I tried to concentrate. It took me some time to get the secret door open but when I did, two arms of the Book case stretched out too me, as if welcoming me home. In the space was a stair-case, which wound down into the darkness below. Lighting a candle, I took it with me. The deeper I got, the faster my heart pounded. I couldn't believe the scale at which my father had his secrets. Further and further I went, until the ground levelled out and I reached what seemed like a circular room. To my immediate left and right were two fire baths, which ignited instantly as I touched the candle to their skin. What I saw both shocked, and amazed me. Before me was indeed a spherical room, with seven huge Statues located around the borders, chests of gold, jewels and other precious things lay scattered about with a massive chest in the centre. The flame light flickered and moved treacherously however I didn't pay much attention to the mystic names upon the statues. Slowly I moved towards the box in the centre. The chest it's self was antique. A mahogany casket with the DeCorta coat of arms engraved on the lid, below a symbol I didn't understand. I tried the lid. It was unlocked. Cautiously I pulled open the lid, letting it rest back on its hinges.

Reaching inside, I pulled out a pearl white cloak and lay it on the lid, letting the material drape over the side. Next came a jacket rather like my own. I put it beside the cloak and reached back inside the casket. Two silver wrist bands caught my eye. Each was or ornately designed with the same strange symbol as the box embossed on top. The base was strange but I didn't examine it closely. As well was a beautiful curved knife, finely placed in a white leather back-sheath. I drew the shimmering blade, reflecting the flickering flames wickedly. I pulled the straps around my back and secured the blade in place. Finally there were the documents. They were wrapped in a brown leather pouch, for protection. I stuffed the pouches into the pockets of my jacket and wrapped what was left in the cloak. Taking one last look into the chamber, I left. With more questions than I had answers.

Back in the blacksmiths I lay the items on the table, rattling off questions to Carlos, who stared blankly off into the void. Finally, when my questions had flooded into silence, spoke.

"Do you know what your father is?"

"He's a merchant and a sailor," I said in sure what he meant

"Yes," he said softly, "and no. What do you know of the order of assassins?"

"I've heard legends and stories but I thought they died out ages ago..."

Carlos laughed, "Dead? We are very much alive."

"Wait," I said, the penny finally dropping, "you're not," I trailed off

"Nothing is true Stephino," he said, picking up one of the silver wrist braces. He pressed the tiny leaver, and a metal blade shot out, with a sickening slick, "it is only permitted." He smiled and stood up proudly, "I am the second in command for the assassin order here, in Trieste. Second, only to your father." I was shocked, Carlos didn't seem surprised of the shock, and "he has an excellent talent for hiding the truth. Although he didn't seem it, he was probably the best assassin since Altiär, many years ago. You have your place among our order too. But that comes later. For now you must sleep, you need your strength." He pressed the leaver on the brace again and the knife retracted. "Tomorrow we train. Tomorrow night, we plan. And then we save your family." He chucked both braces to me, "or you kill Francetti"


	3. First time for everything

Chapter 3

My sleep was troubled that night. Although Carlos had made me comfortable in the stable, I awoke twice with a cold sweat and a heart-beat faster than a speeding horse. My dreams were haunted by the realisation my father was not the man I thought he was. Worries about my sister and brother merged in my head. Forming a monster of darkness and hate.

When morning dawned it was cool and crisp. Walking into the kitchen I found Isabelle, preparing bread for lunch.

"You're up early," I said crossing over to her. She flicked her hair from her face and looked up at me. I got the full blast or her astounding emerald eyes and felt my heart miss a beat. She twitched her lips into a half smile

"You said you'd tell me when you returned," she said, laying down her knife and turning to me

"You were asleep," I lied, "you looked too beautiful to disturb,"

She laughed and kissed my cheek. I was speechless. "Don't worry me like that again," she snapped.

"I never make promises I cannot keep," she smiled.

"I never knew you had honour?" She said and I laughed.

"Full of surprises," I said. She told me Carlos was waiting for me in the workshop,

"Come find me later," she flashed me her stunning smile and I nodded and left.

In the work shop, Carlos was working on something. The soft sound of tinkering echoed through the place, and he seemed deep in concentration. I knocked on the door and waited for the reply

"Come," he called, "ahhhhhhh Stephino, good to see u up, please take a seat," dutifully I sat down, looking carefully at the work on the bench.

"I've made some modifications to your blades" he said, passing me one. I was astounded. I could have sworn I was wearing them last night.

"In it I've built a Shrunken thrower," he smiled, pleased with his achievement, "one of the knives into the slot below the knife blade, point, and shoot." I was pleasantly surprised at this and thanked him for his work. Getting up, Carlos left the room, me hot on his heels. In the court yard he had set up a number of dummies.

"I will teach you," he said, "in our ways so that, when the time comes, you will be able to both attack unseen and leave with no persistence." I nodded. At the time, becoming an assassin had no place in my priorities. But I listened all the same.

"In front of you are several 'targets' matching to several techniques in which one can use. The first way, is simple," there was a soft click as his blade slid out from his brace, "walking behind your opponent, put your hand around their mouth, and push your blade into the small of the back going upwards." He showed me on the closest dummy. "This is the simplest of our attacks and should prove helpful in large crowds. I tried, walking silently, dispatching the dummy with effortless control.

"Bene," Carlos smiled, "that is good. Remember sometimes you must sacrifice noise to stay hidden. Other times you must sacrifice ambiguity for speed." At thistle man sprinted towards another dummy, jumping high into the air' pushing the blade between the base of the neck and star to the shoulder. Again I followed. This went on for some hours, practising different kills, until I could dispatch dummy's almost as good as Carlos. He nodded when I'd finished.

"Good that's enough fo-"

Paulo ran in breathless and excited,

"They've moved the execution of the DeCorta's to today, they die on the third stroke of twelve." Carlos took charge nodding at the boy,

"Go Stephino," he said, but I was already gone.

I sprinted through the streets of Trieste, up a wall and along the roves. Twice I almost fell but I kept running. My family was in danger and I must help them. The sky was clear and blue, marked only by black ravens, which cried and cored a message of death and warning. My heart raced as I swapped roof tops for backstreets. Soon I was in the square. A makeshift gallows had been set up I. The centre, my father and mother, attached by ropes, stood still and unresponsive. In front of them Thomas Francetti paced up and Down laying their crimes to the crowd.

"You have been tried and found wanting." He cried, "Accused with the crime of high treason against Trieste. For this there is only one suitable punishment,"

"Let them swing," cried a member of the crowd and his chant was take up by others in the group.

I was appalled at their bloodlust. I started to make my way through the crowd, noticing the guards that stood at each corner of. The gallows and the Archers lining the roof. My father looked up. Our eyes met. And for that moment, the world stopped. He smiled at me and I nodded my affection, but I was too far off to stop what happened next. I was too slow to stop Francetti pulling the trap doors open. Too far to stop my father and mother fall to their deaths. As they fell I screamed, "No!" Dropping all sense of hiding sprinted at Francetti. A guard came to cut me off but I fired a shrunken deep into his gut, pushing him into the other. I ejected my blades and, Leaping high in the air, I fell upon Francetti with hells fire burning in my eyes. Rage and grief and hatred took over me. Sending my blade plunging into him again and again. I was only woken from my trance as an arrow struck the floor beside me. I set off at a run, over the gallows into the crowd. Retracting my blades I sprinted for the safety of the roof tops. Under the watchful gaze of the midday sun I thundered onward. The sprightlier of guards still hot on my heels. I could feel one right against my back so, taking the dagger from my sheath and making a sharp turn, I waited before shoving my knife deep into his chest. He made a wet gurgling sound as the life drained from him. The look in his eyes still haunt me.

"Why?" The eyes cried, "Why now? Why me?" I let him fall to the floor taking out my blade. And continued running. Until I reached the safety of my home.

"I thought I'd find you here," said Carlos stood behind me, "may I sit?" I nodded. It had been two hours since the murder of my family. Two hours since I had killed Francetti in cold blood. Now I was here. In the chamber built below my fathers studied. Surrounded by flames and statues I thought of what I was going to do. My mind had kept wondering back to my sister and brothers. I vowed I would no rest u till I found them.

"You have don't the city a great thing Stephino," said Carlos softly, "Francetti was a tyrant. Selling arms and weapons to the highest bidder. Weather that was friend, or foe." I stayed silent. "You must not believe that the death of your parents is your fault," he said. I was trying hard not to burst into tears, but Carlos was neither making it easy or possible. He put his arm across my shoulder. "A man is not afraid to cry," he said, his voice was level. But when I looked up, I saw a tear trickle down his cheek. I sobbed freely. Letting to of all the hurt. The pain. The grief. The ever-lasting sense of failure. After some time. I faded into silence. Finally, Carlos stood up

"I may not be you father," he started, "but I have watched u grow and blossom. You have been like a nephew to me, as your father was my brother." He paused before continuing, "I will never replace the hole left by your father and i do not intend to take his place in you but, if you want to, you are welcome in our family. I will teach you everything I know. Give you all the skills you need to get back your family. It won't be immediate. It will take some time but, until you are ready, I will assign my best assassins to find your sister and brother." He held out His hand and I took it. Each of us holding the others wrist.

"Thank-you uncle," I said. I didn't really know what else to say. All I knew was that my sister and my brother was out there, somewhere. And for now, there was nothing I could do. I had lost my family, but in the proses I had joined another, and the time would come for me to strike. For me to take back what was mine.


	4. Joining

Assassin's creed Chapter 4

The days after my parent's deaths were, in many ways, torturous. The loss of life and the feeling of guilt were all to close to home. Carlos did the best he could. We would train with weapons by day. Whilst by night he opened my eyes to the ways of the assassins. At first he was closed with his information, to be honest the desire to want to know wasn't there on my part. But slowly, as I became more fascinated by what my father was, he opened up to me.

He taught me that, to be an assassin, was to distance yourself from the restraints of moral and civilian life. The Creed, a code in which all Assassins abide by, was deep and fulfilling. Carlos spoke of the three laws and the one overwhelming fact.

"The creed," he had told me, "sets us apart from everyone else. It shows how to live our lives and how to do our jobs. It does not sanction the ending of an innocent's life, nor was it meant to bring the reputation of the order, and yourself, into disrepute. What it does is show us how to find peace in the world, by finding peace in ourselves. The Creed cannot be killed, even if all of us were. Your father lived by this. He never killed and innocent human, nor did he bring shame upon your family. And did u ever once see him get angry? I would doubt it."

Carlos' teachings would go on late into the night but I absorbed it all. He told me of the Templar order. A group with similar ideals, but totally different ways of getting achieving those ideas. The two groups had been fighting in the shadows since the crusades. Assassins did everything to stop Templar rule. And Templars did the same. As Carlos once put it, "where would we be without an enemy?"

In due time we learnt it was the Templars behind the destruction of my family. Why? We had no clue but Carlos assured me we were close. He had taken over from my father, becoming the head of the Italian assassins. I started off as a footman in the lower ranks. But as the months ticked into years. My place among my peers grew. I built a reputation for my self. A skilled swordsman, and a quick learner. With agility, Italian grace, and an uncanny knack for hiding on my side. Carlos assigned me missions like the others. Traitors in need of disposing. Information in need of retrieval. It was often exciting and challenging. But I knew it had its place.

I trained under Carlos' wings for five years, learning everything he had to teach me, whilst integrating and becoming one of the Freago family. After my father and mothers death, Carlos bought our villa for his own family. Not only so as to protect its secrets, but also to move from the tiny blacksmith's cottage which had been his home for god knows how long. I spent many hours with both Carlos and Isabella. The friendship and trust bound is together and became both healthy and strong. Soon it was as if Carlos was my father. As for Isabelle, well, we were as close as sisters were to their brothers. She, like me, was to become an assassin. Although she preferred the art of distraction rather than the art of fighting. She used her beauty and her charm to get what she wanted. And I have never seen a man, other than Carlos and I, refuse her. That said, she was a good listener and I can remember many times sitting up, late into the night, talking over each others fears and worries. In her I built my strength. And in me she found a protector. Carlos found it satisfying to see me fall into place. He would walk up on the training square saying my father would be proud. I found a fondness with their family soothing and reassuring. But it neither filled the hole nor quenched the need for vengeance left by the taking of my family.

Every now and then, Carlos and I would travel abroad or to different parts of Italia in pursuit of a new lead. Many times my family was whisked away before we could reach them, but sometimes we came close.

But now it was the eve of my 21st birthday. 21 years since the day I was born. 5years since my parents died. 5years since Carlos took me in. Surprised though I was, I was shocked when, around seven in the evening, six others, men and women, turned up at the house.

Carlos welcomed each into the villa in the normal way, offering wine. This set the atmosphere high but, as I sat with Isabelle in the corner of the large dining hall, I became increasingly confused.

"What is all this about?" I asked Isabelle, she looked at me curiously,

"You don't know?" she asked, "it's our initiation into the brotherhood,"

"Oh damn yeah," I had totally forgotten, but now having been caught up, I understood. Carlos suddenly turned to us.

"It is time,"

Ushering everyone down to the chamber Carlos shut the door behind us, making the villa fall silent in one swift move.

When I walked into the chamber, it was dark. The only light that showed was a single torch that was hung on the wall. Each assassin was stood in front of a different statue, with a one main leader stood in the middle. He was tall with his hood pulled down over his eyes, showing only his neat moustache which curved down into a neatly trimmed beard. Over his left shoulder hung a snow white cape and a large crimson read belt was tied neatly around his waist, the Assassins seal displayed openly in the centre. He wore two beautifully crafted wrist guards that I guessed were his blades, and his sword poked curiously from the edge of his cloak. We walked, silent as a ghost, behind him, Isabelle and me side by side. I was unsure who this man was but I was assured that he was incredibly important.

"Friends," he called, "today we gather, to witness the entrance of two new members to our order. As Assassins we hide in the shadows, however we bring light to those in need. Like the wind, our presence is felt, but never seen. Were others are held back by knowledge and facts we understand,"

"Nothing is true," we chanted

"We succeed because we believe. We have faith in our abilities, we have faith in our judgment. Trust your instinct, as to fail to do so could cost dear. This is why, when others are held back by moral and compassion, we know that,"

"Everything is permitted," we called, the man smiled

"To say that nothing is true is to realize that the foundations of society are fragile, and that we must be the shepherds of our own civilization. To say that everything is permitted, is to understand that we are the architects of our actions, and that we must live with their consequences, weather glorious or tragic." He drew his sword, "this sword is the sword of our Ancestor, Altaïr. Passed down from Mentor to mentor as a sign of our obedience. He once commanded us, "Though I ask my brothers now to abandon their rituals, I do not ask that they abandon the Creed. THIS is what makes us Assassins. Not the removal of a finger. Not a false promise of paradise. Not the prohibition of poison. Our duty is to the people, not to custom." In this way the loss of a finger is neither needed, nor wanted, yet our seal is indeed no less permanent." The man swiped the sword dramatically to his side and the fire baths ignited. Carlos now stepped in front of us,

"Are you ready?" he asked a look of sympathy on his wise face. We nodded and he stepped back. A female assassin drew a red hot seal press from the torch. Passing it to the unknown Assassin, he stepped forward in front of me. The air boiled as he spoke,

"As with all thinks, the pain will not be permanent," Carlos held out my hand as the man pressed the seal to the ring finger of my right hand. There was the smell of burning flesh, a searing and intense pain, and the seal was pulled away. I resisted the urge to cry out, letting only a hiss escapes the confines of my lips. Brave though she was, Isabelle could not manage the same feat. As the scorching metal pressed against her finger, she screamed, forcing Carlos to avoid his daughter's eye. As the man stepped back, I inspected my finger. The skin was burnt quite badly, however I could make out the outline of the Assassins seal. The man stood before us,

"Welcome to the Order," he said, smiling, "Safety and peace be upon you."

Up in the Villa, Carlos had laid out a feast for us. It had been almost half an hour since the ritual and both Isabelle and I had changed into more suitable attire. As I waited at the foot of the marble staircase waiting for Isabelle, I found my mind wondering.

Recently Isabelle had been on my mind constantly. Even when I was training I tried harder when she was looking and always fought my heart out for her. A few years back I almost beat a boy to death for cheating on her. The whole city almost knew of our romance, although if she knew she did well to hide it. In my waiting I wondered if she felt anything for me. It would be almost the topping of the cake. I looked up at the top of the stairs and the atmosphere stole my air. There she was, standing magnificent atop the staircase. He cream ball gown hugged her slim figure as she, tentatively, down each step. The closer she got the more beautiful she seemed. The white frills wish lined her shoulders sloped down before cutting across her chest, exposing only some of her cleavage. White fabric sloped from he breasts, coming together just above a belt of pearls and other precious stones. The base of the dress opened up, flowering out around her elegant legs, showing only slender feet slipped softly into small shoes.

She stood before me, beauty radiating off her like the heat from a candle.

"Do I look ok?" She asked nervously. I nodded,

"All the Angels in heaven could not match the beauty stood before me; she smiled as she placed her hand on top of mine. My heart raced and I found myself realising that I loved her. We walked into the dining hall together and, from the wide eyes and smiles of approval I could tell we'd made an impression.

The night continued, Isabelle at my side, me making conversation with anyone who'd listen. We ended up in the company of a young assassin by the name of Jacob. He was English and, from what I could tell, quite high up in the assassin food chain. We chatted for a whole about each others lives and out life styles before finally I asked

"Who is he?" Pointing to the lead man from the ceremony, now engrossed in conversation with Carlos.

"That?" Said Jacob, "that is Ezio Auditori. He is the leader of the Assassin Order. He is our Mentor."

He paused for a second before continuing, "I must say it is rather abnormal to see him at an initiation," he said, "you are incredibly lucky," Isabelle nodded fluttering her eyelids briefly,

"Stephino go talk to signor Auditori," she said in my ear, "I am intrigued to know his story," I smiled before leaving the Englishman and Isabelle alone.

I crossed my way to Carlos and Ezio Auditori. They both looked around as I joined them,

"Ah Stephino," Carlos said jovially, "how's the finger?"

I laughed, "It is good thank-you Uncle" I smiled, and Carlos. Turned to face the taller assassin.

"Stephino let me introduce you to,"

"Ezio," the older man said, "Ezio-"

"Auditori," I said smiling, "I have heard much about you signore. It is indeed an honour,"

Ezio laughed, "If your boys skills are as good as his talents, Carlos," he said, "I can see a promising future for him," but Carlos looked down.

"Stephino her is not my son mentor, although I sometimes wish he was," Carlos explained, "he is Giuseppe's son,"

Ezio looked at me with a mixture of both sadness and understanding.

"Oh I see," he turned for the door, "walk with me," Carlos excused himself and left us to our own. I followed Ezio as he went out into the garden,

"I know what it is like," he said solemnly, "to loose your parents," there was sadness in his voice and I let him continue, "The hole they leave and the vengeance they make you seek is almost too overwhelming. Your father was a good friend of mine. I remember you being only an apple pip in your father's arms, which was back when I was only head of the Italian order. Your father was a good man, much like my own." He stopped and turned on his heel to face me. In the moonlight, I saw the fire behind his eyes and felt the passion and the pain he was showing me. "Stephino, I know you will seek vengeance but no amount of killing will bring back what is dead," he paused, "it will cloud. Your judgement and will stop you from choosing right from wrong. It will blur the line between justice and murder. Do not let a personal vendetta change the person who you are." I felt his hand on my shoulder and he laughed, "you remind me of myself when I was young." He nodded and started to walk back to the house. To this day I remember the words he told me. I remember my chat with him. And to this day I still do not understand how I managed to carry out his request...

By midnight, everybody had gone, each assassin disappearing into the night in his or her own way. I was in my room by one o'clock, taking off my top and washing my face in a basin left out for me. There was a knock at the door and I turned to see Isabelle standing there, her face a mixture of mischief and concern.

"Stephino," she said softly, "can we talk?"

"Of coarse," I laughed, "please come in. Sit," I sat on the bed and she joined me by my side, "what's bothering you?"

"Have you got anyone on your mind?" She asked looking away. I laughed again,

"Yes," I replied, "have you?"

"Yes,"

"Oh interesting," I winked, "is he close?"

"Very," she said, "what about you?"

I paused as our eyes met. The atmosphere seemed to steal the air from my lips. But I looked away,

"She's right next to me," I said giving her a sideways glance. She blushed as our eyes met, and I gently brushed aside lock of hair that had fallen helplessly out of place. We got closer as my hand glided over her cheek. Our lips met. Her eyes were closed as she draped her arms about my neck. As the kiss continued, the mounting temptation grew. Her allure grew as her gown fell to the floor, and we fell into the depths of our desire.


End file.
